The sight was frightening - a gaggle of armed and armored Alliance Marines marching in a group, facing forward, grim intent on their faces. Arkwright was in the lead, holding something in his hand. They stomped an unwavering path straight down the main engine boom corridor, into the mainship.

The conversation had died down to nothing near the end of the transport ride back. Arkwright's conservative standpoint and McCathan's cautious optimism gave way to silent anticipation of what everyone on the transport knew they'd just have to go do as soon as the clamps were secure, and the presence of a mangled Officer Tallen, with Kohana working frantically over him, served to cast a pall over anything anybody else felt the need to say.

Arkwright was as anxious as the rest to see the mysterious map completed at last, but he still stood by his opinion. Its meaning was not going to become suddenly clear and obvious as soon as the two halves were mated - that kind of thing only happened in holos anyway. He was never even of the opinion that it was a map at all, but the configuration of lines on their scrap could be construed to be some kind of map at first glance, so that was the name that had stuck for it - The Map.

The entire bunch of them squeezed out of the lift into the crew lounge. Arkwright led the way with purpose by leaving the piece of map he had been carrying since they left the imperial complex on a table, signalling to everyone where to gather. Gather they did, and after snatching the other half's laminated envelope off the bulletin board, sending a shower of notes and post-its with jokes and half-serious suggestions scribbled on them fluttering to the floor, he pushed his way through the marines and took a seat at the table.

They all stopped moving as Arkwright placed the two halves next to each other, leaning forward and peering intently at him moving the two pieces around, trying to find two matching edges. Nobody breathed.

In short order, he did find two matching edges, and immediately tried to reconfigure them. No ... that couldn't be right.

Nothing else he tried fit, so he moved the two pieces back to their last position and frowned at them. They were only square on three edges - the fourth was still ragged. The harsh sound of Rince throwing back his head and laughing out loud rattled in Flynn's ear.

There was a third bit yet to find.

"Come on, guys," Rince chortled, "I'm getting a drink."

As the crowd dissipated as quickly as it had formed, Kesk leaned on the table and asked, "So ... what's that mean?"

"It means," Arkwright replied with a sigh, "the Empire has no idea there's a third piece, so it's just as worthless to us as it was to them."

He pined to himself momentarily that they didn't know why their spy had felt this scrap of paper to be so important to begin with as to get them into this mess. Tyberius was a shade in the next world, and the Vondur was stardust, its databanks gone with it.

"Well, cheer up, sir. There's no X on it, right?"

Arkwright looked up at the sharp-featured private in time to catch the starfield outside the forward transparisteel wall stretch and flash to hyperspace behind him.

"You know, Private, I'm usually not the type to say this ... but I need a good stiff drink."